


red-hot syndrome

by spokl



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, M/M, Mild Stabbing, Non-Graphic Violence, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spokl/pseuds/spokl
Summary: What was he doing, practicing how to say “sorry I’m a dick” to someone who knows full well that he is, in fact, a dick?Settsu Banri's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.
Relationships: Hyoudou Juuza/Settsu Banri
Comments: 13
Kudos: 124





	red-hot syndrome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zhennie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhennie/gifts).



> "even though this isn't your fandom," you said.   
>  also thanks for looking over ur own gift fic. ilu

Probably, what other people notice first about Hyodo is his height. It’s pretty obvious in the way girls approach him on the street now — pretty obvious the way their eyes crawl upwards from the shit texture of his shirt and then past his sharp Adam’s apple, the strength of his jawline and finally into his eyes, which are as annoyingly piercing as they’ve ever been.

Gives Banri the creeps, all of it. The upward crawl happens up his spine, too.

Sometimes, Hyodo’s height is actually pretty convenient. Right now, as they’re making their way past (or rather, through) a crowd of Godza fans, Hyodo cuts a fairly spacious access lane behind him. Banri doesn’t like being behind Hyodo, but hey, he’ll outshine him when the street act actually starts.

  
  
  


Banri first noticed how hard he stares at Hyodo after the incident with mini Bro-con at the dinner table and unwarranted flashing. It didn’t take long, about three minutes actually, for him to start bitching about it to Itaru during a speed run later that night.

“And,” he was saying, “I don’t wanna waste so much time hate-stalking Hyodo when I don’t need to give him the time of day, just gotta know enough to beat him, so—”

“Are you sure you’re hate-stalking,” Itaru commented mildly. “I spend a lot of time reading people’s crybaby Reddit posts after I crush them. That’s hate-stalking. You’re just regular stalking him cause he won’t give you a good fight even though you punched him out on stage.”

“That was _a year ago_ ,” Banri protested, accidentally whining even though he knew Itaru always gave him that stupid fake adult older brother look of pity when his voice came out that way. “I don’t even think he felt that.”

“Okay, okay.” Itaru’s attention had already shifted back to the game at that point. The annoying thing about Itaru — take a fight offline, and the guy just caves like a wet tissue. An expensive cologne scented wet tissue. Banri wrinkled his nose. “That’s not your usual scent.”

“I’m not wearing my usual shirt,” Itaru replied.

Banri’s brain caught up with that three seconds slower than it should have, making him get up and pace the room aggressively. “Okay, _ew_ , what the hell man? I’m practically a child. My innocence is wrecked. Keep that cabbage smelling shit out of my life, will ya?”

Itaru just smirked at him, making him take back every wet tissue thought he’d just had. Fuck. _Fuck_. Even Hyodo’s 3000% unbearable blast in the face would be preferable to this, although now that Banri thought about it, Hyodo actually smelled more and more like a cozy, welcoming bakery these days so—

“Fuck,” Banri growled, slapping his phone onto the seat so hard it bounced up comically and landed on the floor, where the screen splintered into a million little sections.

  
  


(“Oh, you too,” Tsumugi pointed out kindly the next morning when Banri laid his assassinated phone on the table irritably, having lain through another night of Hyodo’s unbearable snoring. “Tasuku is going with me to replace my phone tomorrow afternoon, would you like to come with us?”

Tsumugi always was a balm to the nerves, unlike some other shitty twenty-four year olds. Banri nodded shortly at him, noting that Hyodo had now cost him a good night’s sleep yet again and a fucked up phone screen.)

  
  


Sometimes having a good eye for shit is helpful, like when he wants to freak out Kantoku-chan by getting her a nice pair of earrings as a thank you gift (and he’s perfectly capable of being nice, thank you very much). Other times, it’s wandering around the grocery store with Tenma while the guy puzzles over how to pick out the best fruits and vegetables.

“Well, at least you can tell the difference between good food and shit food, unlike Hyodo,” Banri’s saying while he picks out a couple of eggplants, placing the acceptable ones into the cart. Tenma goes quiet then, looking around furtively behind his ridiculous sunglasses. “What?”

“That’s like… the tenth time you’ve brought up Juza since we got here,” Tenma replies, “you’re basically obsessed with him.”

Banri suddenly grows uncomfortably aware that he’s holding a purple phallic object while talking about Hyodo. Gross. He yeets the thing back into its pile. “I’m _not_ obsessed with him! I just think he has a lot of shit to sort out before he gets on my level!”

“Uh-huh,” Tenma says. “I don’t know dude, it’s like you’re just looking for reasons to bring him up in conversation. Did something happen with you two?”

Did it?

Banri tries to unblock his memory long enough to figure this one out. Because it’s him, though, and because it’s Hyodo, it only takes a millisecond. No, nothing happened, just that the urge to continue (shit)talking about Hyodo grows stronger in him by the _instant_ , because Hyodo is suddenly everywhere. On his mind. In his space. At the breakfast table. Handing him a protein shake when they part ways to their respective classes on Wednesday mornings, because what the fuck?

Tenma raises an eyebrow at him. “Hello? Earth to Banri?”

“Nothing happened,” Banri snaps, “he’s just been extra annoying lately.”

“Really, ‘cause it kinda looks like he’s being nicer to you or somethin’ lately, actually. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, or whatever, man, I’ve been there — it’s not great.”

“I’d rather die than eat out of Hyodo’s h—”

“Is that _Sumeragi Tenma_?!” shrieks some background character, right on cue, and whatever Tenma’s barking out at him in reply gets lost in the scuffle.

  
  


Usually Banri takes one, maybe two tries to pick up a new skill. Like acting, or tricking yo-yos. 

He’s distracted right now, though. Life suddenly going into medium mode because of Hyodo’s entire existence is, on top of everything else, disturbingly inconvenient.

  
  


Unfortunately, Hyodo himself is the one who catches him next time. It’s Akigumi’s turn at puzzle night, with Kazunari lingering to chatter as usual, and it’s also basically the only time Banri can tolerate existing sociably with Hyodo right now, with at least three other people acting as a buffer so that when he inevitably turns his concentrated look into a disdainful one, everyone else will be there to see it happen.

No one’s called him out on it, too concentrated instead on trying to figure out the expanse of vapid blue sky in the puzzle where all the pieces are shaped more or less the same. Hyodo’s fingering (fuck, no) a piece himself, fumbling it around between his thumb and forefinger while he frowns down at the painting on the box cover like he can project it to scale in front of him.

It’s. Agonizing.

Banri clicks his tongue.

“What,” Hyodo growls in his usual deep voice before anyone else even reacts, which Banri immediately hates himself for noticing.

Banri bares his teeth reflexively. “Your hand’s in the way.”

“That why you keep staring at it like you wanna light it on fire?”

Banri trips over his comeback and lunges across the table to grab the offending hand instead, knocking several puzzle pieces askew. Somewhere behind the roar in his head Taichi and Kazunari whine in tandem — _Ban-chan! Come on! Is this really the time!_ — but all Banri can think about in the moment is how his leg catches against the table’s edge and how, in the moment he regains his balance, Hyodo has a grip on his shoulders. Steady. Warm.

“Oi. Watch it,” Hyodo warns, low, brow furrowing.

Banri wants nothing more than to push that one annoying lock of hair back from his forehead. It is the most horrifying thought he’s ever had, worse even than the time he almost thought Hyodo might be a better actor. He shoves Hyodo back. His face feels like it’s on fire. Fuck. Shit. What the fuck. His fingers tremble when they dig into his palms, and everyone’s watching, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Kazunari covering his mouth with his hands and Sakyo looking like a headache is coming on.

“Fuck off and don’t touch me,” Banri says with way too much venom, “whatever.”

“Wait, that—”

“Ban-chan—!”

“I’m done for the night,” Banri forces himself to breathe, calming, relaxed, rolls the burr in his voice flat, “Hyodo, find somewhere else to crash, I don’t wanna hear you breathe.”

Hyodo’s mouth goes slack the same time Kazunari claps his other hand over Taichi’s mouth. Omi, coming out of the kitchen with two beers, looks at Banri with a deep disappointment. Azami sighs into the couch cushion. Sakyo narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

Why aren’t they all rushing to Hyodo’s defense?

Banri turns and somehow makes his way out of the lounge, rounding the corner before he pivots to slam his fist into the wall.

  
  
  


Lunch with Kazunari the next day, during which Kazunari wisely said nothing about puzzle night, followed by sitting in a nice, calm cafe with Tsumugi later in the afternoon, has Banri in a fairly better place.

The thing is, though, just because Kazunari uncharacteristically said nothing to Banri directly doesn’t mean he didn’t go and basically broadcast it to the whole entire world through his freaking network. Which is why, as Tsumugi steps outside onto the street and turns his face towards the golden early autumn sun, he says, gently, “I heard puzzle night was quite the event last night.”

Banri’s mood drops to zero, and then rapidly dives into the negatives.

“Did something happen between you and Juza,” Tsumugi continues kindly. The light is hitting the delicacy of his cheekbones just _so_ at the moment, and Banri has the sudden, first of its kind thought that if he ever fell in love with Tsumugi, he was way out of his league.

Not, of course, that Banri would. He and the entire rest of the company and probably anyone who lays eyes on Tsumugi and Tasuku for more than half a second knows Tsumugi is spoken for.

He shakes his head. “Just couldn’t keep his hands to himself, or whatever the f— whatever.”

“Ah,” says Tsumugi. “Well, with the way you go carousing after him all the time, I wouldn’t have guessed that was a problem at all.” He says this so matter-of-fact that Banri himself nearly gets swayed, and then sputters at the idea. “Juza left quite early this morning. I was checking up on the garden after last night’s wind picked up and I happened to run into him and Omi leaving together.”

“So.” Banri clears his throat a little. “I mean, uh. I guess I was a little worked up. But I mean. Hyodo gets it, he’s decent about that kind of stuff.” At least.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Tsumugi concludes lightly, like the thought is just occurring to himself instead of being an objective, awful truth — that Hyodo Juza is a good guy, probably a better person than Banri is without ever having to try, even though he can’t string three words together on stage on the first try, even though he can’t do mental math, even though he filled his coffee with baking soda once because he thought it was powdered sugar, even though he can light Banri on fire with just a look and never notice that he’s doing it, and, well. Shit. When you put it like that.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Banri sighs, “can’t go off playing reverse favorites or something, since I’m the leader and all that, yeah?”

Tsumugi smiles at him angelically.

  
  
  


Hyodo isn’t home when they get home. Banri slinks into their room, drops all his stuff on the floor, swears at the fact that they have loft beds, and contemplates faceplanting onto the floor instead.

How does Hyodo do it? Bow his head so easily?

Banri looks around until he finds himself standing in front of the mirror. “Hyodo,” he says to his reflection, “s…”

Nope.

“Hyodo,” he tries again, “I was too—”

Nope.

“Hyodo,” he says for a third time, like a cough caught in his throat. The fuck was he doing, practicing how to say “sorry I’m a dick” at a mirror to someone who knows full well that he is, in fact, a dick?

While he’s debating this, the door (of course) clicks and swings open. Hyodo stands there in all his brooding glory, meets Banri’s eyes for less than a heartbeat, and then has the nerve to pretend he isn’t even there.

“Look at me,” Banri says.

Hyodo slowly swings his gaze over to him again.

“I… last night, I didn’t mean. Fuck. I didn’t mean to snap at you, okay? My bad.”

“But you’re always snapping at me.” Hyodo reaches for a hoodie that usually lives on his bed, pulling it down in a way that fucks up his sheets by dragging all the wrinkles to the side. He pauses before jamming it over his head. “I don’t know what you want from me, Settsu. If I leave you alone, you start coming after me. If I don’t, you tell me to leave you alone. My fighting days are behind me now, you know that. So—”

Oh.

Shit, his chest hurts.

“If you want me to leave you alone, don’t come chasing after me,” Hyodo says, his voice even lower, jaw tight.

Banri does not want that.

Banri actually wants Hyodo to pay extra attention to him.

“That’s not what I want,” he finally says, pushing himself to step closer, and closer again. Until he’s slowly close enough to feel the warmth radiating off Hyodo’s body. Close enough to smell the sweet bakery scent he’s come to acquire after hours hanging out in the kitchen with Omi and Tsuzuru.

Hyodo makes a noise from somewhere deep in his chest. “What _do_ you want, then, Settsu?”

Banri looks at him.

Hyodo looks back.

It only takes a second for _sweet_ to register on Banri’s tongue. Figures, he thinks as he presses even closer, that Hyodo would taste that way.

  
  
  


The next morning is fucking torture.

Banri wakes up early because Hyodo tosses and turns like no other: just sits up, rubs his eyes, and yanks Hyodo’s arm off him before slipping out of the room.

It is quiet in the courtyard at this hour — still dark outside, just the barest sliver of colorless light on the horizon. Not even Tasuku would be up running at this time. Banri slumps down against a tree trunk and curls his fingers around the damp, dark grass.

Trying to make sense of it.

Him and Hyodo.

Banri and Juza.

It doesn’t.

  
  
  


“Ban-chan? I just saw Juza-san coming out of the room looking really upset…”

Nevermind, what is Taichi doing up at this hour?

“Do you know if he’s okay?”

Banri opens his mouth to say that Hyodo’s probably fine, just going through delayed puberty, but suddenly realizes that the reason Hyodo is like that is because of him. Probably came to the realization that he let himself get tainted by someone like Banri. Or maybe he doesn’t even like guys. Figures.

He says, brusque, “How the fuck should I know? Haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Taichi’s teeth worries at his bottom lip for a while. “Did you guys break up?”

“ _What?_ ”

“I thought maybe you were sulking cause you had an argument and broke up or something, cause Ten-chan said all you talked about was how annoyed you were with Juza-san, and I don’t know, isn’t that like a sign you should get marriage counselling. Or something?”

Banri gapes at him for a full handful of seconds. “We weren’t even dating to begin with.”

“Really?!” And for some reason Taichi looks genuinely surprised there. “So him being really nice to you for the past three months was just him being really nice…? And you’re just fighting because… it’s what you _do_?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Taichi looks at him with the same kind of disappointment as Omi, which is really just too much. “Ban-chan, don’t you like him?”

“Like hell I do,” Banri yelps, flushing. Like a liar. Even though the sun’s come up, pouring gold into the courtyard, he’s still cold from sitting still for half the night. His wretchedly frozen fingers grip the hem of his shirt so hard they might as well snap off. “Just, you know. No, I don’t like him. I’m trying to get along with him for the troupe’s sake, and shit.”

“You already do that, though,” Taichi points out.

“I don’t have _feelings_ for Juza,” Banri grinds out between his teeth, then closes his mouth. “He’s annoying and he takes too long to get good at shit. I don’t have time for someone like that.” It feels and tastes all wrong in his mouth, but the longer Taichi keeps looking at him like that, the harder it is to take the words back. Fucking pride.

“I see,” is all Taichi says, quiet and a little sad, “man, Juza-san sure has it rough.”

Sure does, Banri doesn’t say out loud.

  
  
  


It’s nighttime and Banri has come to the unfortunate conclusion that he likes Hyodo. Admitting it to himself even secretly took the entire day, but now that he’s unclogged that particular line of thought, he does kind of feel better.

Harugumi has the puzzle for tonight, which means there’s not really an excuse to hang around after dinner unless he wants to drag Itaru, so Banri beelines for his room, a thousand different ways to say it running through his head. All he has to do is wait for Hyodo to open the door, and then repeat yesterday but with more talking and less yanking at clothes. Simple. Even a fool can do this.

On cue, he hears footsteps approach the door. Except when the door opens, Hyodo and Muku are both there.

“Juchan,” Muku starts softly, “I’ll just wait out here, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Hyodo comes in, takes a deep breath, and looks up at Banri, who’s peering over the edge of his bed. “I’m crashing at Muku’s tonight.”

“Wait—what?”

“Yeah.”

“You… can’t do that?”

Now he’s frowning. And then he reaches for his pillow, but Banri’s faster.

“What the hell, Settsu,” Hyodo starts, jerking on his end of the pillow. It occurs to Banri then that this might not end well, but he’s not one to not see things through. “Let go.”

“No.”

“Let _go_.”

“Listen to me first,” Banri howls, “you don’t have to sleep in Muku’s room! You know Kazunari doesn’t sleep until like three in the morning and the light bothers you.”

“Like you care.”

“Obviously I care, you _fuck_. I l—”

Silence.

Hyodo’s fingers, turning white around the pillow.

Banri’s breath splitting in two.

“I need everyone to be in physical shape and getting shitty sleep isn’t gonna accomplish that,” Banri corrects himself, because yelling the truth out will probably kill him.

“I’ll sleep better for four hours in Muku’s room than I will for eight hours in this one,” Hyodo growls, “I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow.”

Banri lets go of the pillow and gets a modicum of satisfaction at seeing Hyodo have to catch himself in return. And then that disappears, along with Hyodo, who, behind the closed door, says, “I’m fine, Muku,” voice like a shuttered window, and their footsteps fade down the hall.

  
  
  


Three days later, the puzzle is done, Hyodo has not returned to their room at night, and Banri’s losing his mind.

It probably would have gone on longer had Kantoku-chan not finally dug her heels into the ground and ordered the pair of them out onto Veludo Way to do etudes while she goes over scene 8 blocking with Taichi again.

“I don’t wanna,” Hyodo says before Banri can even agree. Sakyo’s the one that finally gets them out the door, ten grueling minutes later.

It is an unfairly nice day out. Right now, as they’re making their way past (or rather, through) a crowd of Godza fans, Hyodo cuts a fairly spacious access lane behind him. Banri doesn’t like being behind Hyodo, but hey, he’ll outshine him when the street act actually starts.

“Well?”

Hyodo doesn’t slow down. Banri, swearing, grabs his arm.

“Well _what._ ”

Weak, is his first thought. Unpolished, and his body is angled wrong. Then again, Banri’s the one in acting classes, and Hyodo —

Hyodo looks stricken. Skin pale, jaw tight again, shoulders tense, hand ready to yank away. Shadows sinking beneath his eyes — like hell he’s been sleeping well. Banri takes the opportunity to jumpstart their etude. “I said _wait_ , Lansky.”

 _Oh, this again_ , Hyodo scoffs wordlessly, but manages — barely — to brush it off as part of the act. A few of the regulars on their way home from school pause at the familiar name, waiting to see what follows. “I’m done waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” Banri bursts out, “you know I am, right?”

Hyodo looks him in the eye. “No, I don’t. Sorry doesn’t mean you bail out and leave me hanging.”

“I was covering both our asses!”

“Like hell you were. You were just running away cause you thought I didn’t have yours.”

“I know you do!”

“Then why did you _leave_?”

There’s a roar in Hyodo’s voice that Banri hasn’t heard in a long while. He wants to reach out — but they’re technically in public. And doing a street act. For another second, Hyodo looks like he’s about to falter, and there’s a ripple of confusion from the audience when the tension holds too long and begins to die down, so Banri, swallowing down an uncharacteristic amount of fear, forces his voice out steady.

“So _you_ didn’t have to.”

Hyodo looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

Maybe he has.

“Why would you have to leave?”

The genuine confusion in Hyodo makes Banri’s chest crack open and bleed.

“Because maybe I’m not the one you should shack up with.”

“... What?”

“Maybe I’m not the one you should be with,” Banri repeats, watching as Hyodo steps closer and closer.

“What’s gotten into you,” Hyodo asks, abruptly plunging into concern. “If anything, you’re the one who had nothing better to do, so you ended up with me, right?”

“I _wanted_ you, dumbass!”

Hyodo’s face flickers from confused to something softer to angry. “Who are you callin’ dumbass?”

“Dumbass!”

“Shut up!”

Suddenly, Hyodo is too close. Close enough that Banri’s eyes drift to his mouth, close enough for him to think _just kiss me already_ , close enough for him to jerk Hyodo forward by the collar to shut _him_ up for a change, except he doesn’t get to.

Someone breaks free of the crowd gathered around them and launches at Hyodo’s back, a gleaming knife in hand. A hair’s breadth away from conquering the world, Banri freezes.

The hand holding the knife draws back.

“Out of my way,” Banri roars, pushing Hyodo away with the bulk of his strength. Hyodo stumbles off to the side in shock, ready to yell, which is when the assailant catches Banri’s jacket and then his skin and then deeper still on the tip of the blade.

“Oh my god, that man’s got a knife,” an onlooker yells uselessly, setting off a round of high pitched shrieking.

Banri stumbles.

“ _Shit_ , Settsu,” Hyodo gasps, catching him in time for a shock of pain to crash through his body. “I got you. Hang onto me.”

Banri looks at Hyodo slowly.

Hyodo looks back, but only for a second before he barks at someone to call emergency.

“Looks like I win again,” Banri mumbles against Hyodo’s shoulder, shaking but _warm_ , inhaling that sweet bakery scent over and over again.

“How the fuck is getting stabbed in place of me winning,” Hyodo asks weakly. “Look, just hang on. Help’s arriving soon. There’s a station not that far off. The fuck did you go off script for.”

“You… idiot. There wasn’t a script to begin with.” He shifts to accommodate a weird bend in his leg and the movement makes him swear and Hyodo grasps him so tight that he has to kick him. “Fucking… ouch, dude.”

“I guess it’s not serious if you can chew me out as usual,” Hyodo mutters. “Think you need to lie down.” Sirens blare their way closer. “Nevermind.”

“Shit timing as usual, Hyodo,” Banri manages to smirk. Not that Hyodo can see it, since his face is muffled. When the stretcher arrives, Banri squeezes Hyodo’s arm, and asks, “Hey, are we even now?”

  
  
  


Banri is lucky.

No permanent damage, missed any and all vitals, just a scar that he’ll have to carry until one day he forgets about it.

“I want a sexy abs scar,” Taichi complains, “it’ll get me all the girls.”

“You wanna sit out every fight scene we got coming up?” Banri shoots back. Taichi droops like a sad puppy, so he grudgingly bestows a few head pats on his friend. “Chill, I’ll be fine in a few weeks. It wasn’t that deep.”

“Okay! I’ll let the rest of the guys know!”

“They already know,” Banri calls out as Taichi bounces out the door, only to be replaced by Hyodo. “Oh, hey. Here to visit your personal hero?”

“I wasn’t acting. Back on Veludo Way.”

Straight to the point, Hyodo was. Banri looks at him thoughtfully. He knows — he knows he looks at Hyodo a lot. Knows the hardness of his bones. The unexpected softness of his chin. How his fingers fit between his ribs. But he doesn’t know enough.

“Yeah,” Banri agrees, “I know. Neither was I.”

Hyodo frowns at him. “You really think I wouldn’t want you?”

“I haven’t exactly been a field of daisies, have I,” Banri points out, ignoring the butterflies crashing into his belly. “Just got you on my mind all the time, Hyodo.”

“Yeah.” Hyodo nods. “Me too.”

Banri relaxes back into his pillow. “Well, glad that’s cleared up.”

“Yeah.”

Hyodo looks like he’s about to leave then, but folds down next to Banri. “...Thanks, Settsu,” he says. “I don’t even know how much I owe you for this.”

“You could come closer and finish what you started,” Banri suggests, heart rising into his throat.

“What I started?”

“Or what I started.”

A little laugh breaks out of Hyodo and scatters around the bed. Sunbeams. “Yeah. I can do that.”

This time, when they kiss, it’s slow enough for Banri to settle into the weight of them. Hyodo leans over him protectively, which normally would make Banri flare up like an old wound, but now it’s just easier to pull him down for more kisses.

“When are you comin’ back to the dorm,” Hyodo asks after a while, soft and sleepy and heavy against Banri’s side. Banri takes the opportunity to do what he’s always wanted to do and pushes his hair back, then tangles his fingers in it and relishes the fact that Hyodo leans into his touch.

“When I can climb into bed again,” Banri guesses, “or maybe you can throw me up there.”

“Like hell I will.” Hyodo bats his hand away and climbs up onto his elbows. “‘M waitin’ for ya. Got lonely and stuff by myself.”

“Oh yeah? What’s wrong with shacking it up with Muku again?”

“... the light from Miyoshi’s laptop drove me insane,” Hyodo admits. Banri just laughs at him so hard that he ends up wheezing from the pain, but it’s worth it. Always has been.

  
  
  
  


There’s a party when Banri comes back to the dorm, freshly healed and complaining about his jacket being ruined. Apparently, the guy who stabbed him was a Godza fan. It got bad enough that even that bastard director disowned the fan, so maybe all’s well that ends well.

Juza (who blushed the whole afternoon when Banri actually used his first name for the first time) actually visited him every day, showing up to do his homework and get distracted from said homework within minutes by the prospect of making out in bed. Banri would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy his newfound power of making Juza just as obsessed with him as he was with Juza, so he supposes they’re even there too.

A week or two later, Kantoku-chan brings a new puzzle home. This time the troupe leaders get to take a crack at it first, so Banri, Sakuya, Tsumugi and Tenma all bend their heads over the coffee table after dinner.

“You and Juza made up, huh,” Tenma prods him, picking out edge pieces and crowing whenever he manages to fit one in.

“It was only a matter of time,” Banri replies smugly.

Sakuya looks at them curiously for a few seconds before smiling his bashful smile. “Ah, that’s right! Did you guys sleep together —” Banri yells in panic “— on stage?”

Tenma chokes. So does Tsumugi, delicately.

“Sure,” Banri agrees, after recovering, “Let’s just put it that way.”


End file.
